A Diary of a Less Sinister Nature
by Narcissa Raie
Summary: In her sixth year, Ginny is forced by a therapist to write a new diary to get over that whole diary... issue. And if you think the inner workings of young Ginevra's mind is all rainbows and fluffy bunnies, you are seriously mistaken.
1. Pumpkin Overkill and Pierced Brains

Disclaimer: If J.K. Rowling wrote this, her carreer would be a goner.

A/N: I don't know if I like this one. The plot bunnies wouldn't stop trying to chew off my head until I wrote this, so I figured I'd finish chapter one and see where it went from there. Read/Review... you guys know the drill.

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**September 1st**

**5:30 PM**

**My bedroom**

Hi. I'm Ginny Weasely. You are my new… diary.

Wait. I don't need to introduce myself to an inanimate object. Sorry diary, old habits die hard.

This is weird. I haven't written in a diary in 5 years. I actually didn't ever plan on having another one. I have a slight phobia. The only diary I've ever had wrote back to me, possessed my body, and oh yeah, tried to take over the world. That might leave some emotional scarring. Possibly.

The whole reason I'm even writing in this damn thing (no offense, of course), is because mummy dearest thought it would be a terrific idea to get me a therapist. And said therapist thinks I should write in here to get over "that whole diary… issue". A living memory of an evil wizard possessed my body and almost killed me and my friends, through an innocent diary, and she thinks I should write in another one to "get some closure". I tell you, that woman is bloody brilliant.

In other news, I'm going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. My genius of a therapist is going to meet with me in some obscure room in the castle (there's certainly enough to spare) from 4:15 to 5:15 every Thursday night. I'm pretty excited, almost as excited as I would be to gauge my eyes out with a spoon. Oh goody.

To-do list for the school year:

1) Don't hang out with the Golden Trio. It makes people think I don't have any other friends. Because, apparently, I couldn't hang out with my brother's friends for their company. Nope. Not me. Never.

2) Find some other friends. (Colin Crevey? Luna Lovegood? The Giant Squid?)

3) Deal with Draco Malfoy's obnoxious comments. Refrain from stabbing him with sharp objects.

4) Try very hard not to let my mind combust from my overload of work, seeing as not only am I taking more than my required classes, I'm taking advance potions with the seventh years. I'm turning into bloody Hermione over here. She's a terrible influence.

5) Research stories about people who murdered their mother's and/or therapists and got away with it. I'm looking for heroes, baby.

**September 2**

**9:03**

**Depressingly empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express**

So, I think the title of my whereabouts speaks for itself. The good news is, I'm sticking to my to-do list, and starting with numero uno. It's not like I wasn't invited to join Hermione, Ron, and Harry, but they did it with fake smiles plastered on their faces, and Ron had his toe stamped on by Hermione when about to object. I denied their… _kind_ offer. I'm actually quite proud of myself. The bad news: I'm sitting in a depressingly empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Well… at least I brought a book. I'm currently reading "Is That a Missile in Your Camouflage Cargos?"; the third book in the "Or Are You Just Happy to See Me?" series. They're trashy and terrible and I love it. I've got a sandwich in my bag for later, and more than half of the rest of my book to go. Maybe the emptiness isn't so depressing. With so many brothers, it's actually kind of nice to have some quiet time to myself.

**9:21**

Where is everybody::rocks back and forth in fetal position, sucking thumb, and humming "It's a Small World"::

**11:07**

**Wishing my compartment was still depressingly empty**

I have the incredible pleasure ::cough:: agony ::cough:: of being accompanied ::cough:: held against my will ::cough:: by one Draco Malfoy. I'm really trying to stick to number three on my to-do list, but the extra quill sticking out of my bag is just screaming "Use me to stab him! Use me to stab him!!!!". Okay, maybe it's just sitting there. But if quills spoke, that's what it would be saying.

I actually started reading, and Isabella was about to make love with Anthony, her one true love, for the first time. But, little does the happy love-making pair know, Fiero(Anthony's half-brother/ the father of Isabella's child) is stalking Isabella, waiting for the right moment to steal her away. He has found Anthony and her making love, and he was about to jump out of the bushes…

But I'm going off track here. Just at that climactic scene, the door to my compartment slams open. And guess who's there? None other than Draco Malfoy. I jumped at least ten feet in the air and threw my book. And with my amazing luck, he caught it. And taunted me for a good five minutes about it. Just when he'd finished that topic and was about to leave, Luna Lovegood walked in the goddamn door, all dreamy and vague, and she starts talking about how she saw I was all alone so she's going to keep me company. Which draws attention to Draco that I am, in fact, all alone in a compartment.

So now, I'm sitting in this damn compartment, Luna on my right, and Draco bloody Malfoy and his friend (Blaise Zabini? Maybe?) sitting across me. It's been an hour and already I'm ready to pull my hair out, strangle someone, or stab Daco with my screaming quill.

Insulting topics covered: 27

Times Draco has insulted me flat out: 34

Times Draco has insulted me in a passive aggressive way: 6

Biting remarks that I've said back: 33

Times we've insulted each other's families: 52

Number of imaginary animals Luna has brought up: 41

Hours left: 4-5

**3:49**

He seriously makes me want to kick puppies.

**7:26**

**The Great Hall**

So I survived the trip here, (thank Merlin), and the sorting is finished. Nothing really exciting occurred, just bunch of snot nosed first years whimpering about.

I'm a prefect now. Mum is very pleased. She got all excited that "now everyone in the family has become a prefect!" I'm assuming Fred and George are now the neighbor's kids? Funny. I could've sworn we were related.

Hermione is Head Girl. I'm shocked, really I am. And guess who Head Boy is? Draco bloody Malfoy. I'm not sure what Dumbledore is drinking in that goblet, but if it's enough for him to think Malfoy is Head Boy material, I sure as hell want some.

So this means I'll be answering to my sister-to-be. Okay, so Ron and Hermione aren't even dating yet, but it's all a matter of time that they'll be making little bushy-red-haired brats. ::shudders::.

And of course, there's Malfoy who is now overseeing what I do in my prefect job as well. Fan-fucking-tastic. This year is just getting better and better.

Well... there's a slice of pumpkin pie (why is everything here pumpkin??) calling my name, so I'm going to stop writing now.

**10:00 PM**

**My dormitory**

I'm trying to work on number two on my to-do list (find some new friends). I'm going to start by trying to actually get to know the girls who sleep in the same room as me. I've been living in the same room as these girls since I was 11, and I'm still not exactly close with any of them. Now that I think of it, I rarely even speak when I'm in this room. Hmm... I'm awfully exciting. I guess I'll just have to win one or two of them over, make them my best friends, survive the next two years, and live happily ever after in a house made entirely of either cheese, chocolate, or brillow pads.

Here are my options between the four of them:

**Margaret Sawyer– **

- kind of lanky, wispy blonde hair, light blue eyes

- very insecure

- Wear's sweaters and hunches over because she thinks it'll make her seem shorter. Where she gets this logic from, I don't have the faintest. It just makes people call her "Grandma".

- Thinks Neville Longbottom is sexy. Don't get me wrong, he's a sweet boy, but… ::shudder::.

- Has weird feet

- Insists on always having her toenails painted bright blue, and the polish always smears, and her weird feet just end up looking weird _and_ diseased.

**Larissa Martinez – **

- a little shorter than me, very curvy, dark brown hair that makes her look like she should be starring in a shampoo ad

- confident, but not cocky

- laughs a lot and makes other people laugh a lot

- also reads the "Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?" novels

- in love with Dean Thomas; thinks I'm crazy for dumping him. But he bugged me. And was very over-protective. So boo on him.

- Rarely stops talking

- Very lovable

**Blaire LaPoule - **

- tall, thin but not lanky or anorexic looking, short and angled black hair with auburn streaks, wears a lot of eye makeup

- has multiple piercings

- still pretty, which isn't fair.

- loves to draw; very very good at it

- sarcastic and cynical, but it amuses me to no extent

- very straight-forward and honest; you'll know if she doesn't like you

- speaks French when she's frustrated, doesn't want you to know what she's saying, or just wants to irritate you

- reads a lot. Not exactly into the "Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?" novels; more into dark comedy, and trust me, it shows

- has a pet rat named Chartreuse; I'm still baffled as to why she named her pet after an ugly shade of green

- smokes a pack of cigarettes a day and drinks like a fish(how does she get these things in a school that only serves pumpkin juice??); but somehow pulls off good grades

- finds Quidditch a waste of time and energy (WHAT?! WHO COULD POSSIBLY THINK THAT?! ...sorry. That was the Ginny who was taught what to think by six brothers. The other Ginny is back now. And apparently still speaking in the third person. Hmm.)

- Has been friends with Larissa since they were really young. Which is pretty weird if you knew them separately, but if you saw them hanging out together, you'd know they were completely perfect for each other. The "odd couple", would be the right way to describe it.

**Alana DeBuchemi – **

- looks a bit like one of those muggle Barbie-dolls

- is fully aware she looks like a Barbie-doll

- NEVER stops talking. And it's always about boys, make-up, clothes, celebrities, or her favorite topic: herself

- Pretty dumb, but thinks she's "like, super smart"

- If I see her eat at all, I usually hear her puking in the bathroom afterwards

- Wears so much perfume I almost choke when I'm in a five foot radius of her

- Flips her hair a lot and bats her eyelashes at anything with a penis

- Gossips about EVERYONE

- Mocks Margaret(poor, bizarre, girl), harasses Larissa(is very jealous), ignores me(understandable, I rarely acknowledge her existence) unless I mention something about Harry or any of my brothers(EW), and is always antagonizing Blaire(very stupid on her part) and they get into these massive arguments which can last anywhere from 5 minutes to many hours. It's either a great source of entertainment or terribly annoying, depending on what you're doing at the time.

So it looks like my only acceptable candidates are Larissa and Blaire. Which isn't so bad. Larissa is sweet and we have a lot in common, and Blaire is just plain cool and doesn't think I'm weird for not hanging out with them much. Or she just doesn't care. I'm pretty okay with either. The fact that they're close is extremely convenient for me. Larissa's asked me to hang out with them a bunch of times, Blaire didn't really, but she's not exactly the reaching out type. I wish I'd agreed to it, but I was always "busy" (tagging along with the Golden Trio).

So it's settled then. I'm going to try to get to know Larissa and Blaire better. If this works out, maybe this year won't be completely awful.

**10:29**

Oh Merlin, Blaire and Alana are on the verge of a fight already. The year has officially started. I'm going to do a play-by-play…

Alana starts blow-drying hair. At 10:30, when we have double-Potions first thing. I told you she wasn't the brightest.

Blaire is laying down on her bed reading, furrows her eyebrows, grumbles something under her breath that sounds something like "Méchant salope". I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I'm doubting she just called Alana a ravishing, brilliant, goddess she'd be so pleased if Alana would be humble enough to allow her clean her shoes with her own tongue. Just a wild guess.

**Alana: Ex_cuse_ me?!**

**Blaire: Tu as méchant salope.**

Told you about the French thing.

**Alana: What did you just call me?!**

She probably thinks she's getting insulted in Mermish or something.

**Blaire: I'm sorry Barbie, I completely forgot you're just about as worldly as a newborn flobberworm. I said that you're a nasty slut.**

And it's so damn true.

**Alana: Ex_cuse_ me?!**

She's starting to sound a little redundant.

**Blaire: Did I not just explain what I said? Wow, you're denser than I thought.**

Keep in mind that Blaire is still cool, calm and collected. She has not even looked up from her book yet. That is talent, ladies and gentlemen, pure talent.

**Alana: You're a fucking freak Blaire.**

Alana's getting hysterical, throwing out the most insolent thing she can think of, which happens to be her most over-used comment in similiar battles.

**Blaire: That's original.**

Still hasn't even glanced at Alana.

**Alana: It's true. You're just a bitch because NO ONE LIKES YOU.**

This is a true moment of desperation folks; she's trying to claw her way back up to even _be_ in the running here.

**Larissa: What am I? Nonexistent?**

The best friend jumps in. Alana has no chance in hell.

**Alana: You deserve to be.**

Ahh, the jealousy factor. This is more familiar territory for her.

**Larissa: Bitch.**

Nice.

**Alana: Whore.**

Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black.

**Larissa: Slut.**

True.

**Alana: Fatass.**

Where did that one even come from?! Alana's reached such a point of hopelessness she's resorted to just making things up.

**Larissa: Anorexic.**

Ouch. The truth hurts sweetie.

Hmmm. Maybe it's time I started this whole befriending Blaire and Larissa thing. Might as well begin with standing up for them. And if it means I'll get to claw Alana's eyes out, well that's just a chance I'm willing to take ::cue in heroic music here::.

**Me: Well, I like Blaire.**

Wow. The room just went completely silent. And everyone's staring at me. Why are they all staring at me?! Was I seriously this quiet the five years I lived in the same room with these girls? They're still quiet. And Staring. I'm really freaked out right now.

Larissa just starting laughing. And Blaire is smirking. Is this good? I hope this is good. Oh Merlin, are they making fun of me? I hope not. This is a terrible start to a friendship. Why am I such an idiot?

**Me: What'd I do?**

**Larissa(still chuckling): Don't worry about it, babe.**

**Blaire: You guys up for sneaking into the kitchens and nicking some food or something?**

...huh. Maybe I'm not an idiot?

**Larissa: Of course. Ginny?**

**Me: Me?**

Wow. That was clever of me. No, the other Ginny.

**Blaire: No. The other Ginny.** (It's like we have the same brain! Except hers is probably pierced.)

**Me: Yeah, I'd like that.**

Oh well, screw Double-Potions tomorrow. ::dances and sings:: I have real friends! I have real friends!

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I'm not so sure how I feel about this one. Read/Review. I need to know if I should put it to sleep.


	2. Puppets and Potions From Hell

**Disclaimer: I do not own this. J.K. Rowling. It's her's. Don't sue me.**

**So this chapter is kind of weak, as are most of my intro ones. It's really just because I want to get into the good stuff. But, you gotta use the primer before you paint the mural. My mother is a painter. Yeah... shut up. Just read the damn thing.**

**12:47 PM**

**The Great Hall**

It turns out I didn't actually have Double-Potions first thing today! They screwed up my schedule because they forgot about my advanced placement for Potions, so at breakfast they sent me a new one and apologized for the mix-up, and I got to sleep-in instead! Maybe things this year are going to go my way after all.

Oh yeah, and last night was great! Larissa, Blaire, and I all snuck down into the kitchens. I brought Dobby a pair of rainbow socks that I got for him over the summer. Dobby was, naturally, ecstatic (**Note-To-Self – **Buy Dobby socks for Christmas, his birthday, and any other holiday concerning gift-giving) (Do house elves have birthdays?? **Another NTS – **Research house-elves. Check up on birthdays.).

Larissa thought it was adorable how happy he was. Blaire called him "wicked". I'm pretty sure that's a compliment. We all just kind of hung out in the kitchens, ordered tons of food (nothing pumpkin related), and talked about loads of stuff.

I've never really done the whole girl-talk thing, to tell you the truth. I only really spent time with boys when I was young, and after that the only girl I was remotely close to was Hermione, and she's not really the girl-talk type. I seriously question her ability to have just a normal conversation. She's completely socially inept, in my opinion.

Anyway, I think Blaire, Larissa, and I are actual friends now. We just get along so well, you know? Blaire's a little tougher to get close to, but she's definitely warming up to me. We have a very similar sense of humor. We spent a good half hour last night just mocking Skanky McSlutface (Oh, by the way, anytime I call someone a name along the lines of that, I mean Alana. Just a heads up. Even though you're not real, so therefore you cannot read this. Sorry. Still trying to get used to that.), which is always a good time. I've still got Charms and History of Magic to get to, so I guess I'll get going now. Am I supposed to say goodbye to a diary? I need to learn proper non-magic diary etiquette.

**4:01 PM**

**History of Magic**

Professor Binns may just be the most excruciatingly uninteresting person that ever existed. And I've been to a few of those ritzy ministry parties for my dad; trust me, I've met the dullest of the dull. I don't think anyone has heard a word this man says for the past 100 years. 3 people in this class are dead asleep; drool, snoring, someone's even sleep talking. Every once in a while she'll mutter something about the sea monkeys stealing her blue jumper, and how she left her shoes at the mall. I have no idea what a mall is, or what she's babbling about. Weird Hufflepuffs.

Binns has been at this godforsaken school for _ages_. Since the founders first created it, I heard. After he died, the staff must've been devastated when they found out he'd come back just to continue teaching ruddy History of Magic. Means he's never going to leave. Ughh. That means my children (if they will even exist; mum would shat herself if she heard me reconsider getting married and having children), my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren, etc. etc. will always be taught bloody History of Magic by bloody Professor Binns.

Larissa is enthusiastically waving me over; I guess that means she wants me to sit next to her and Blaire. You can't tell diary, but I'm grinning and collecting my stuff together to move. It's amazing having my own friends. The looks the Trio gave me when I sat near my new friends was _priceless_. That and my new friends are so incredible, and interesting, and funny… and I need to put you away now so they don't decide that their new friend is a freak who is forced by a shrink to write in a diary. Even though she is. And she's talking in the third person. And putting this damn thing away, because it's making her less sane more. AHH!!

**5:13 PM**

**Great Hall**

Finally some food! I have yet to see anything pumpkin related, besides the juice, but I hear the pumpkin pasta at the end of the table is to die for. ::GAG::. I swear I'm going to talk to the house elves about a menu change, PRONTO. Larissa is talking, I probably should listen. It's actually a really interesting hypothesis she's got going on. I'm definitely recording this for later reading.

"Okay, so I have this theory guys…" Larissa said at random (as far as I know. But I was writing in you, not really paying attention. You don't even write back and you're ruining my shot at a social life! **NTS: Stop using pronouns on inanimate objects. Now.**)

"Uh oh. Here she goes…" Blaire replied staring into her pumpkin juice like it held the secrets of the universe.

"What's your theory?" I asked innocently. Blaire groaned. Apparently I don't want to hear about Larissa's theories.

Larissa grinned at my interest (A.K.A naivety) and stated matter-of-factly, "Puppets make EVERYTHING funny."

"What? That's got to be one of the most ridiculous ones yet." Blaire said snapping her head up.

"Seriously guys! Think about the most terrible thing ever." Silence. "Okay, _I_ will then. Imagine an airplane full of puppies-"

"Wait, why is there an airplane full of _puppies_?" I asked.

"Because I said so," she replied

"Ah, but of course," Blaire said, suddenly intrigued in the conversation and not the juice.

"Anyway," Larissa continued, "the airplane full of puppies crashes into an orphanage of tone-deaf children with terminal illnesses-"

"You sick fuck!" I cried.

"Where do you come up with this shit?" Blaire asked, raising a thinly tweezed eyebrow, which I just realized was pierced.

"I have a sick, twisted, little brain," she replied, grinning.

"As I suspected," Blaire said, nodding in appreciation. My new friends are nuts, I tell you, wonderful, but totally nuts.

"Back to my theory. Now, picture the puppies and orphans, but now picture them as _sock puppets_! See? Now it's funny."

"Hmm… I kind of see what you mean," I replied.

"One of your more bizarre theories, but I'm kind of getting it," Blaire added. Just at that moment, two twin boys jumped on top of the Hufflepuff table. They're names are Terrence and Philip, and they're desperately trying to be the next Fred and George. They're failing. Miserably.

"Here they go again…" I groaned banging my head down on the table in exasperation.

"Terrence! I have a splendid joke for you!" Philip cried dramatically.

"Yes, dear brother? Share it with me!" Terrence replied jovially. Philip then let out a gaseous noise. Hmm… joke. Hysterical. Then Terrence made one back. They started cackling wildly. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall grabbed each one by an ear and dragged them out of the Great Hall, scolding the whole way.

"Can puppets make _them_ funny?" Blaire asked smugly, turning to Larissa.

"I withdraw my theory," she grumbled, glaring at her half-buttered roll.

**11:13 PM**

**My bed**

I'm bored. And I can't sleep. And I have my first advanced 7th-year Potions class tomorrow. Right after lunch. And none of my friends are in it. I don't have many friends to begin with, but _Hermione_ isn't even in that damned class. I mean, she should be, no denying it. But Snape hates her. A lot. Why does he not hate me? I don't have the faintest fucking idea. I think he feels bad about the whole, evil-diary thing. Plus I'm pretty decent at potions.

But yeah, potions. Early. Tomorrow. Gahh. I'm going to sleep now.

**11:34**

Definitely sleeping now.

**12:06**

SLEEEEEEEEEP.

**12:52**

Really going to sleep now. I swear it.

**1:19**

One, two, three, SLEEP.

**1:25**

Goodnight. Really.

**7:00**

**The Great Hall**

**Breakfast**

I think I'm going to pass out. Larissa just pulled me out of my porridge. Forcefully. The girl's tiny, but let me tell you, when it comes to vigorously pulling her friend out of a disgustingly mushy breakfast, she could definitely compete against the heavyweights.

I know, I know, don't scold diary, I should've slept last night. But I _couldn't_. I'm nervous about this stupid potion's class, and it's seriously grating on my nerves. I just want to get the first one over with to see how horrible it's really going to be, instead of thinking up worse and worse scenarios. They're really starting to get ridiculous. The most recent one's put Larissa's theories to shame.

I just need to get it over with. Like ripping off a band-aid, or whatever those muggles say. I've never had a band-aid, but the gist of it seems to be that's it hurts, but it's not so bad if you do it fast. They're an interesting bunch. I can understand why my dad's so fascinated with them. But he's a bit behind on the times. A rubber duck? Spark plugs? Electricity? Pshaw! I spent a lot of time in muggle London this summer to get out of the house, and those things are old news. It's about cell phones, iPods, plastic surgery, and a lot of other rubbish that's very fun to play with once you get the hang of it.

Anyhow, I have to be going to Care of Magical Creatures. Blaire threatened steal you, give me an insane amount of paper cuts, and then cover me in last night's pumpkin pasta if I don't get a move on. Yeah. She gets creative. That's cute and cuddly for her. You should hear her when someone really upsets her. It's amusing in a terrifying sort of way. She reminded me of how delicious _pumpkin flavored pasta_ is. I'm leaving now.

**10:07**

**Transfiguration**

Professor McGonagall is a bitch.

I know she's my head of house and all that, but honestly, I can't stand the woman. She's only tolerable if you're Ron, Harry, Hermione, or Dumbledore. I swear she hates me. It's not like I did anything! Well, I might've "accidentally" transfigured Alana's bleach blonde locks into Medusa-esque snakes, but it wasn't my fault! Well, not really. She was being bloody annoying! I had to do something to make her stop talking about Draco bloody Malfoy. Have I mentioned? They dated for a little while. Fucked like rabbits, I heard. I'm not exactly shocked.

But yes, she completely deserved it. Annoying little bint. It really was fantastic when she screamed her bloody head off. I tried to warn her it would scare the poor little buggers on her head, but she went on screaming anyway. Then one bit her nose and she really started to freak out. ::Sigh:: goooood tiiiimeeess.

Uh-oh, McGonagall is giving me a death stare. I should probably take actual notes now.

**12:58**

**The Great Hall**

I can't do this. I can't go to my next class. It's just not going to happen. I'm seriously freaking out over a STUPID LITTLE PUNY … STUPID CLASS!! Yes, I said stupid twice. I'm allowed because I'm FREAKING OUT. It's first year all over again! I'm terrified over a class! I can't eat. I'm going to throw up, I swear it. Larissa is trying to calm me down and Blaire says to "Stop scribbling so damn loudly, it's giving me a headache. Calm the fuck down. I need a cigarette just watching you" Which, I'm assuming, is her special way of calming someone down.

FREAKING OUT.

Lunch is over. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

**9:45**

**Gryffindor Common Room**

MALFOY DESERVES DEATH.

No. not death. He deserves worse than death.

A lifetime in Azkaban!

Even that is too good for him. He deserves something… REALLY REALLY BAD.

That was pretty weak. But a mere few hours dealing with him has drained me of my creativity. Drat. I need to vent, and I figure this is the place to do it. Larissa and Blaire are off doing god knows what, and I don't really feel like bothering with this anyway. It's just dumb shite, precisely like Malfoy, so I figure I might as well write in here, seeing as that's what I'm supposed to do anyway.

Advance Potions was god-awful, just as I imagined. I walk into the class, 30 SECONDS LATE, and there are no seats. Of course, Snape then starts berating me, talking about how he's giving me such a MASSIVE honor, and how I'm belittling him and his kind efforts. The man doesn't have a kind bone in his fucking body, so clearly that is also a complete load of shite.

Then, we are assigned seats and lab partners that will stick with us for the rest of the year. Permitting we are actually tolerable enough to stay in his class the rest of the year (that last bit is an exact quote). And shock among shocks, I'm assigned to Malfoy. Lucky lucky LUCKY BLOODY ME.

So, I am forced to sit within 5 inches of this ass, and he keeps whispering in my ear about god knows what. Mostly harassing me about my family, and how I'm poor (because that's so fucking original?), and all that shite. I just eventually tuned him out completely. He is SO not worth my time.

But I noticed he's not so scrawny anymore… and he smells kind of nice… and EW. WHAT AM I SAYING. STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT.

**10:02**

**Still in the same chair in the common room mulling over my disturbed thoughts**

So I just re-read what I wrote before. And I think I threw up in my mouth a little. No, I'm serious.

**R&R!!**

**Thanks so much guys, I really appreciate you reading this. Tell me your thoughts, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Last chapter I forgot to write down some lines and ideas I stole from TV shows and such, so we'll pretend I didn't. But in this chapter I'll actually give people credit for their work. Yay me!**

The puppet theory --** Daria**

Terrence and Philip -- **South Park**

**Wow. That's really it. Hmm... Read. Review. You people know the drill.**


	3. What Happens When You Assume?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of his affiliates. I do, on the other hand, own Margaret and Alana. Blaire and Larissa are entirely too fiesty for anyone to own them. Seriously.

A/N: I've had such writer's block with this story. I think I'm getting bored. The next chapter hopefully won't suck. I'm going to definitely write one more chapter after this, but tell me if I should just nip the thing in the bud.

**4:15 PM**

**Random Hallway in the East Tower**

So it's Thursday night, the first official appointment with my therapist post-well… you. I have no idea where I am right now. McGonagall gave me some directions written on a piece of paper, and a sympathetic look that screamed, sorry-I've-been-a-bitch-I-didn't-realize-you're-a-hopeless-nutcase. Hey, maybe my mother's overbearing attitude and her need for me to be smiles and sunshine all the bloody time will get an O in Transfiguration.

Anywho, I'm standing in front of this locked door. I knock lightly, twice. The door just swung open to reveal a tall, thin, brunette with horrible posture. She can't be older than her late 20s, but is dressed like she's 45. Her name is Dr. Pricilla, but I prefer to call her Dr. P, or strictly Doc. Not for any particular reason, except that it irks her mercilessly. Which makes me giggle. She's inviting me in now… super. I hope you're going to be reading this, Doc. Because I hate you. And everything you stand for. And you smell like a nursing home. So… HA!

**6:03 PM**

**Gryffindor Common Room**

That wasn't SO terrible. We discussed my "feelings." I told her I didn't have any bloody feelings, and to just read the diary and get this whole mess over with. She flipped through to make sure I was actually writing in it, but didn't read in enough detail to see my note that I left for her at the end. Now I just feel silly. She applauded me for actually writing in you as she asked, but thinks I still need work. And, apparently, an attitude adjustment. Lovely.

I have advanced potions again tomorrow. I had previously imagined that once the first class was over and done with, I wouldn't be as upset about it. I was seriously wrong. I am stressing. A lot. But, I suppose I'll ponder that further, because Larissa and Blaire are motioning for me to join them in going to dinner. I guess I'm sort of hungry. It better not be pumpkin.

**7:14 PM**

**The Great Hall, watching hilarity ensue**

This needs to be documented. I am currently witnessing Barbie herself being rejected. By my brother. With the assistance of Hermione. It's like a train wreck, and I just cannot look away.

Alana sauntered up to Ron, face coated in makeup, wearing a metallic-colored halter dress with what can only be described as "fuck-me" shoes. You know the type. Clear plastic stilettos, usually seen on women twirling around a pole… yeah. She nudged Hermione out of the way, and leaned over the table facing him, exposing some serious cleavage. Is that a freckle on her left tit? Oh Merlin. Look away, Ginny, look away! She started talking about how she ::sob:: has no one to go to Hogsmead with this weekend. Okay, now that you're up to speed, she's touching his arm, and his hair, and OH MY GOD SHE JUST TOUCHED HIS FACE. She has yet to stop talking, she's using every ounce of tart-like charm that she has in her yoga-ed out arse. My poor dimwitted brother doesn't have a chance against this girl. He needs his other half, well, other two halves… other two thirds? I don't know. That's irrelevant. He needs Harry and Hermione. Ron is stuttering, looking to them for assistance, essentially pleading with his eyes. Hermione visibly moves Alana out of her seat, turns to face her, and blatantly states, quite loudly, like she was explaining something to a very dumb, very small child, "He does not want to go to Hogsmead with you. He does not want to spend time with you. You could offer him a chance to play in the Quidditch World Cup AND oral sex, and he STILL wouldn't want you. Leave us alone, you tarty little harpy." With a shocked gasp, and a look of sheer disdain, Alana just stormed out of the Hall. I'm putting my quill down so I can stand and applaud. Excuse me.

I'm done. That was excellent.

**1:37 AM**

**Kitchen. Dobby, let go of my leg. I adore you, but I'm quite content. I ate a quarter of a cake. Fine, maybe just a hot chocolate?**

So this has turned out to become a significantly more interesting evening than I had previously assumed. Well, you know what happens when you assume… Actually, I don't know. Something about a donkey. Stupid muggle phrase.

It wasn't all Alana that made it interesting either, although she was certainly a contributing factor. Perhaps I should explain further.

After dinner, Larissa, Blaire, and I all went back to our dormitory, only to find Alana screaming obscenities and essentially wreaking havoc all over the bloody place. Curses were flying, random objects were crashing (since when do we have a ballerina lamp? Anybody? No?)… it was disastrous. Entertaining, but disastrous. It was like someone kept a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a cage too small for a few days, occasionally poking it with a stick, then immediately letting it go without warning, AND handing it a wand. Needless to say, we got out of there as quickly as possible, only to find Margaret sitting in the hallway picking at her toenails.

"Umm… we were thinking about going down to the kitchen… would you be interested in coming? I guess?" Larissa asked her awkwardly. Margaret merely shrugged, stood up, and followed us. Once we got there, after trying so hard to be quiet so Filch wouldn't catch us out after hours, we all just burst out laughing. Except for Margaret, anyway. She just kind of stood there, watching us.

Gasping for air, Larissa said, "Can you believe Tarty McSlutface?! The expression on her face! She was all, 'OMGAWRSH I AM SO HOTT!' and next thing you know she's like, 'OMGAWRSH WHY IS THIS BUSHY HAIRED _FREAK_ HURRTING MY FEEEEEELINGSSSS?! DO SHE _KNOOOOOWWW_ WHO I AAAAM?!'" Her imitation was priceless. Not even remotely accurate, but brilliant nonetheless.

"And what about Hermione?" I squealed, "I'm sorry, I've known that girl since I was 11 and I've _never_ seen her like that! She said oral sex. ORAL SEX, DAMMIT!"

"So she pretty much totally loves your brother, huh?" Blaire said, no longer laughing.

"Yeah, but don't tell them that. I think their brains might explode simply with the suggestion," I replied, still giggling a little.

"Too bad…" Blaire sighed, lighting a cigarette and staring off into space. Or just observing the house elves across the room. I couldn't really be sure.

"Blaire has a cruuussshhhh," Larissa teased in a sing-song voice.

"What? Oh," I said, finally putting two and two together.

"You really didn't realize? I've never shown any interest in guys, I'm a sixteen year old girl, blah blah blah, I'm gay? It's not very hard to catch on to, Ginny."

"I just assumed you lacked feelings, but I definitely prefer reality's reason," I said, grinning.

Larissa started laughing all over again. "You really do have a problem with your people skills, Blaire-bear."

"Yeah, well, I don't play well with others. Remind me not to put that on my résumé."

"Duly noted," Larissa and I replied simultaneously. "WOAH! Get out of my head!" We fell into yet another fit of giggles.

"So… you won't be after my Neville?" Margaret's timid voice came out of nowhere. This only seemed to make us laugh harder.

"I think you're safe, sweetie," Larissa said, patting Margaret on the back.

After gorging on food (Larissa and myself), chain smoking (Blaire. Really, who else were you expecting? ...Diary. Gahh.), sarcastically commenting whilst trying to stealthily sneak in random questions about Hermione (Don't think I wasn't paying attention, Blaire), and sitting awkwardly watching us, as if we were some creatures in a muggle zoo (take a guess); the three of them went back upstairs. I told them I'd catch up; I just needed to talk to Dobby. I don't, obviously. I just wanted to update you while everything was quiet and I could continue living in my head a little bit. That and I've become a little frightened of Alana. I'm hoping the beast is sleeping by the time I get back.

Tonight almost made me forget about Potions tomorrow. Oh shite. I have potions tomorrow. Bollocks.

A/N: Tell me your opinion. Keep it? Ditch it? Write another chapter? Start another story all together? I like to hear your thoughts. Mine are scary.


	4. Detention With a Slimy Git

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing Harry Potter-related. On the other hand, I do own a cat with homocidal tendancies.

**A/N:** Finally! Some DG potential action! Not really. But we might be having a breakthrough. Sorry to get you excited, my fellow DG shippers.

**8:16 PM**

**Sitting across from the portrait of the Fat Lady**

I just spent the past 25 minutes on my knees at Professor Snape's mercy…

NO! IT'S NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING DIARY! Get your mind out of the gutter. Pages. Binding. Whatever.

I had to beg him to let me off easy. Try to convince him that his favorite student was really the one at fault. He took to that idea as kindly as he takes to the notion of using shampoo. Needless to say, I was not winning this battle. Maybe I should explain myself further. Oh, in case there's any confusion here, this is all MALFOY'S BLOODY FAULT. ::clears throat:: Moving on…

I arrived to Potions on time, ready to take another stab at starting this year off right. That was so Hermione. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. I'm getting off topic! Stop it, brain! Anyway, I took my seat, didn't send even one glance in Malfoy's direction, and ignored the fact that he was sitting entirely too close to me… and he smelled nice… like a modest type of cologne… Ah! Brain! Enough out of you!

Snape gave us our assignment (He simply gave us directions, and once we were finished making the potion, we were instructed to figure out what it was.), and Malfoy and I decided to split the work evenly. Actually, I decided we were to split the work evenly. He decided to sit behind me and clean his nails. Best lab partner EVER!

So, about 45 minutes later, I'd finished just about everything. I was stirring the cauldron, I'd only had one more ingredient to add (fly's wings… ew.), and things seemed to be going swimmingly. But, apparently it was around irritate-Ginny-o'clock, because Malfoy decided that at that particular moment, he should go rifling through my bag and find you.

"A diary? Weaselette, what are you, 11?" Malfoy drawled.

Naturally, I freaked out a little bit. You may not be the workings of the darkest wizard of all time, but you're still PRIVATE. Completely innocent, albeit a major pain in the ass, but private nonetheless.

I spun around, completely knocking the cauldron over, spilling its contents all over the dungeon floor. It then proceeded to burn a hole through it. Okay, I understand that that is a major dilemma, and a BIG no-no, but who the fuck gives students directions to make an anonymous potion that can burn a HOLE through a STONE floor?! There is something seriously wrong with this man-bat-greaseball. He is disturbed. I should give him my therapist's information. She probably won't actually help him, but she might just convince him to lave the castle entirely. Or report him to the authorities. Yes, he is absolutely being given her office's address. Or maybe I'll just get more detention. Brilliant plan, Ginny. Stop speaking in the third person, Ginny. If you weren't me, I'd punch you in the mouth right about now.

So, Malfoy laughed. In my face. Along with the rest of the class. I then turned bright red, averted my eyes, turned to Snape giving a shrug, and my best innocent please-forgive-me eyes, which always seem to work on my father. Not so much him. Because man-bat-greaseball gave me detention, because he lacks a soul. Maybe he's part dementor. It could happen. It would explain why Harry almost faints every time he sees him. Heh.

Oh, but he gave Malfoy detention as well. He didn't take away any House points, which is NOT fair, AT ALL, but at least he has some judgment skills. Unfortunately, this also means I have detention with Malfoy. For two months, three times a week. Scrubbing cauldrons. Dirty, filthy, sticky cauldrons. Mostly the ones used by first years. Oh my Merlin, this is going to be a disaster.

**9:49 PM**

**My dormitory**

I have the worst best friends ever. They seem to find my whole situation hilarious. I walked into our room, slumped onto my bed, and grumbled unintelligibly into my pillow. Larissa asked me what was wrong.

"Malfoy. Snape. Cauldron. Detention. Diary. Kill me," I replied, looking up from my pillow.

"…huh?" Blaire said, not piecing it all together, which, in retrospect, makes sense, seeing as I was the only one who really could have understood what the hell I was talking about.

I told them the horrific story of what I spent my afternoon dealing with, and you know what they did? They LAUGHED. LAUGHED I TELL YOU! Awful, awful friends.

"How is this funny?!" I shrieked, never quite calming down after arguing with Snape.

"I enjoy laughing at others' misery," Blaire replied, shrugging and lighting a cigarette simultaneously.

"And I just think it's hilarious. You and Malfoy stuck together? For three nights a week? Alone? You'll end up killing each other. Or snogging," Larissa said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

I spluttered, "What?! Me and MALFOY?! Are you nuts?! I hate him. I hate him with a fiery passion of a thousand suns."

"Fine, fine, I was kidding! Merlin…" Larissa said, raising her hands in surrender.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much…" Blaire said under her breath.

I heard her, but chose to ignore it. It's been a long day, there's no need to verbally duke it out with Blaire. I may be pretty quick when it comes to arguing, and MAYBE a little over-enthusiastic (I have six brothers. My temper is quite short.), but Blaire always wins.

I'm going to bed early, but let's recap.

Golden Trio time: 25 minutes. (I said a quick hello at breakfast, which managed to turn into Ronald telling me he thinks Blaire is a bad influence, and Hermione asking me about Advanced Potions. By the time I got to my seat, there was barely any pumpkin jam left.)

New friends-status: Going quite swimmingly. There has been no talk of trying to get rid of me yet.

Malfoy hating time and strength: All day. SUPER hate.

**11:02 AM**

**History of Magic**

So… bored… can't… stay… awake… Diary… you are… my only… hope at not… falling asle

**12:14 PM**

**History of Magic, with the outline of a quill imprinted on my head**

You did a terrible job. Now my papers are covered in sleep drool. Ewwww…

**7:36 PM**

**Potions room**

Of course he's late. Which means Snape is staying until he shows up. This means I have to actually work at scrubbing these cauldrons. Oops, I just got yelled at for slacking. That's an extra week of detentions. I blame you, diary.

Oh, look who finally showed up. I don't know if I'm more irritated to see Malfoy here, or thrilled to watch Snape set up the charms that keep us in this blasted room for another hour, meaning he's leaving. When I see him swoop out (yes, swoop, describe his exit as anything besides a swoop. Ha, you can't… because you can't write your own words. Very nice change of pace, not so great for a good argument partner, although it is nice to always win.)

Malfoy just noticed me writing in you. "Again with that diary, Weaselette? Isn't that was got us here in the first place?"

I'm going to punch him in the mouth. I need to reply with a witty retort and put you back in my bag now. I'll update later.

**9:00 PM**

**Empty Classroom, full of HATE… and confusiuon**

I'm hiding out. Larissa and Blaire are going to want to know everything, and I just need a little while to myself. I think it's time to fully explain the hour of hell I just endured…

We began the evening fighting about whose fault it actually was that we were there. Um… completely his? Obviously? Is he dense, or just in serious denial? Then came the questions about the diary itself.

"Why do you have a diary, anyway? You think you would have learned after your First Year," he said, rifling through Snape's cabinet full of Merlin only knows what.

Now, this was a seriously low blow. Just because I seem to be over it, doesn't mean I completely am. It's one of those things that will scar you for life, you know? It's right up there with losing your family, having a sleepover at Michael Jackson's house, or being forced to watch a marathon of Pee-Wee's Playhouse. You never fully get over it. But it's not like I'd let him know that. "Maybe I like expressing my extraordinary hatred for you. Why do you care?"

He ruffled his hair and bit his lip for a moment. Did Malfoy look… uncomfortable? Completely mind-blowing. "I don't care Weaselette, I was just curious as to why you were so ridiculously strange and idiotic," he replied, tightening his jaw. Ah, there's the Malfoy I knew so well, and despised so much.

"Mhmm. That's me. Strange and stupid. Because you're seriously one to talk…"

"What is that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"Let's see. Strange: you creep around, hiding in dark corners, bothering people you believe to be lesser than you, because you are obviously so insecure in your own pathetic existence that you can't handle being a real human being. Stupid: you actually _believe_ that certain people are lesser than you, because that's how you've been brainwashed, and you're too moronic to try to think for yourself and give people a chance. There. Strange and stupid."

He looked furious, opened his mouth to say something, and seemed to think better of it. He internal walls came right back up and he ignored me for most of the detention, scrubbing cauldrons and occasionally taking breaks to nick the occasional ingredient. That is, until time was almost up.

I looked at my watch, then at the slowly disintegrating charm blocking the doorway, thrilled to get out. I turned to him, "We have about two minutes before we can leave."

"Yeah, sure," he replied, averting his eyes.

When I saw the charm completely disappear, I nearly ran for the door.

"Wait!" he called, a little desperately.

"What Malfoy?" I snapped, angry that he was interrupting my chance at freedom.

He looked down again and mumbled, "Do you really see me that way?"

He was so… sad looking. I wasn't sure what to say. "Well, yeah, kind of."

"I'm sorry for that."

I looked straight at him, "People can change, Malfoy." Then I immediately ran for the door. I have no idea what just happened. I think when I go tell Larissa and Blaire, I'm just going to complain. They don't need to know about the end of it.

Whether I feel a little sorry for him or not, I still hate the slimy git.

**A/N:** Ginny is so full of hate. Malfoy is still a git. But I think we MIGHT just be getting somewhere. Maybe. Or not at all. Who knows? Oh wait, I DO. Review, tell me how long the madness should go on. I could write about sexy DGing forever, but I don't want you all to get bored, so I can't really decide how long this story should be. Not to worry, though. When it's all over, I can guarantee another DG story. And possibly a little Luna/Blaise. But I'd like to finish this first. I'm getting sooo off topic. I love to ramble. Review!! Do it! I'll love you always!


	5. Did That Hufflepuff Wet Itself?

**Disclaimer:** Basically nothing here is mine. The entire wizarding world of Harry Potter? Not mine. Draco? Not mine (despite my attempts otherwise). Ginny? Nope. I can't even claim morning people as mine, but if I could, the population would decrease significantly.

**A/N:** Tonight, my best friend decided to refuse take my phone calls until I updated this. It's only been what... 6 months? Maybe more? Okay, I understand. I'm sorry everyone. :[

* * *

**3:47 PM**

**Walking Back To Gryffindor Tower (This May Be Potentially Hazardous)**

I was secretly hoping that my little chat with Malfoy last night would have changed things between us in class. You know, he'd be more helpful, vaguely more pleasant, generally less of the ferret I've always known he was. ::sigh:: Oh to be stupid and naïve. I feel as if he's only gotten worse. Whereas before he seemed to ignore me, only occasionally provoking when it seemed necessary, he has become more obnoxious. Much more obnoxious, really. I, being the big hopeful idiot that I apparently have become, greeted him with almost friendliness. Fine Diary, it was actually just a "Morning, Malfoy." But I wasn't even scowling!

He, being the ever so wonderful gentleman he is, replied with, "Hello, Weaselette. You know, you've never been much of a Veela, but I'm quite positive a troll wouldn't consider asking you for a date. Not even a meaningless snog, really. And they're not picky- just ask Goyle." Here he chuckled at his own personal little joke. Git.

Okay, so I haven't showered yet, and I ate so quickly this morning I'm quite sure there may be half of a pumpkin muffin in that jungle of hair sitting atop my head unbecomingly. But it's not my fault! I didn't wake up early enough to beat Alana to the bathroom because Blair insisted I make a liquor run to the kitchens with her (NTS: Look into getting her some help?), and that horrible blonde tart takes bloody eons to get her hair "just right". No respect for her roommates, that one. It's bloody ridiculous. I get it; I was not looking my loveliest. There was still no need to make me feel worse about it. Doesn't he understand teenage girls? I may not be the most sensitive of the bunch, but really, he should learn a thing or two about manners. Aren't all those bloody "high society" people taught that from birth? It's apparently the only thing the lot of them know _how_ to do. Well, besides look remarkable every fucking day.

Ignore that last bit. I was not paying Malfoy a compliment. I was just. I don't know. Shut it… Diary.

And it only got more miserable from there. I was distracted by the subtle way his… no! I was distracted by his cruel comments, and by how much he irritates me! Yes, that absobloodylutely sounds more accurate. Merlin, where _is_ my head today? Due to my _completely normal distractions due to his being such a raging git_, I may have messed up the potion. Slightly. By turning it counter clockwise, instead of clockwise. He grabbed the stirrer out of my hand and hissed, "What are you doing Weasley? Do you want to make the damn thing blow up? Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards."

I reminded him that on the inside he was really just a little bouncing ferret, and that his imaginary fiendishness did not intimidate me. Not my best work, but I was distracted, aggravated, and it made him flinch a little anyway. HA.

**3:56 PM**

**Where The Hell Am I?**

The staircases changed. I really need to start paying attention.

**4:06 PM**

**Common Room**

Ran into Luna (almost literally), who led me back. Now convinced that she's much more lucid than everyone assumes. Curiouser and curiouser…

**4:07 PM**

**Exiting the Common Room (At What Can Only Be Described As Light Speed)**

I seem to have forgotten I have therapy in approximately… 8 minutes. Oh, bloody hell.

**4:29 PM**

**Random Hallway**

Therapy session part deux. Knocking tentatively on door. I believe I may be in trouble. I'm hearing the click clacking of Doc's heels on the stone floor. Can footsteps sound irritated? These footsteps sound irritated. Oh yes, here she is, with that fantastic glare upon her face, arms crossed, reminding me a bit of Mum. For someone who is supposed to be curing me of my lunacy, she seems to certainly be lacking in the sanity department herself. This should be fun.

**5:35 PM**

**Common Room**

Just got back. Didn't write whilst walking this time, so didn't get lost, and also had the ability to move a bit more quickly without crashing into things/people/walls/etc. I know; I'm brilliant. Shut it Diary. (**NTS: **When did I start capitalizing "diary"? Should I be worried for my sanity? This may be slightly problematic.)

Doc was particularly snippy with me today; she should have realized that, after my explanation of the afternoon I've had, this would be a terrible idea. I nearly ripped her apart. I was the equivalent of one of Hagrid's required reading books. If I wasn't so full of hatred at the moment, I probably would have appreciated its brilliance. She really looked a bit frightened as she cut our little meeting short. Ha. Serves her right.

::sigh:: At least I don't have detention tonight. I believe I may sleep through dinner. It's been a long day; I cannot stomach anything pumpkin-related this evening.

**11:47 PM**

**Dormitory**

I have the most wonderful friends in the history of ever. No exaggeration. Okay, maybe a bit, but regardless, they are quite brilliant.

As predicted (I'm a right Trelawney) I went for a short lie down in my four-poster bed, and slept clear through dinner. I was woken up a few hours later by Blaire and Larissa, who were holding a full plate of the dinner foods I can tolerate without vomiting (including a steaming cup of hot cocoa), for my choosing, eating, and general enjoyment. Blaire can have her black coffee any day, but when the time calls for it, all I really desire is a nice cup of cocoa. It is my only vice (besides the :Or Are You Happy To See Me? books, of course), and that is perfectly fine by me.

Really, they are quite wonderful. I almost forgot about detention tomorrow evening.

**11:51 PM**

**Dormitory**

Oh, bloody hell.

**7:14 AM**

**Great Hall**

I hate morning people.

And I officially take back that whole "my friends are brilliant" comment.

**7:17 AM**

**Great Hall**

Perhaps I should explain myself further. My apologies, Diary, it's quite early, and I'm too busy hating everyone that moves with a bounce in his or her step to focus properly. Morning people are the bane of my existence. They beat out my mum, Doc, Snape, Voldemort, and even Draco Malfoy if they are particularly perky.

We've been spending time together for months, yet I somehow did not seem to notice. Larissa, my closest friend, with the shiny, shiny hair, and the many perfectly charming characteristics, is a _morning person_. How had I not realized sooner, you may ask? (…Diary. Damn.) I haven't the faintest. Perhaps I had always been far too incoherent at this ungodly time of day to comprehend what went on around me. Maybe she had taken out her affliction on Blaire (I now understand her need to smoke cigarettes and drink heavily) (**NTS:** Forget getting her help- I may be joining her). Regardless, I should have seen the signs. Her chocolate brown eyes are never marred by signs of dark circles surrounding them, a frown never finds its way onto her lovely visage, and she is so bloody _bubbly_. All. The. Time.

I may throw my goblet of pumpkin juice at her. (Yes, I'm subjecting myself to something pumpkin related. It's entirely too early to search the table for anything flavored otherwise. Merlin forbid they leave out some _tea_. "_Tea_? With your _breakfast_? Are you _mad_?" You're quite right imaginary menu creator, that is just plain foolish.)

**7:19 AM**

**Great Hall**

Blaire saw me eyeing my goblet suspiciously, and immediately smacked it out of my hand. She gave me a knowing look, and I shook my head in defeat… well, so much for _that _master plan.

**11:47 AM**

**History of Magic**

What are the chances ghosts can die again? I'm hoping they're brilliant; otherwise these fantasies are for naught.

**6:37 PM**

**Library**

I need to be in the dungeons in about an hour, but I have absolutely no desire to spend said hour with Blaire and Larissa, so I'm hiding out here. It's not that I don't love them dearly, or even my problems with the morning person affliction ::shudder::, I just can't take the Malfoy teasing at the moment. After the way he treated me yesterday, if forced to listen to more of it, I may just uncharacteristically burst into tears.

**6:40 PM**

**Library**

Oh bloody fuck… did something Malfoy said actually have an _effect_ on my feelings? This cannot be good.

**7:18 PM**

**Dungeons**

I got tired of sitting alone in the library. I am now sitting alone in the hallway in front of Snape's classroom. I believe he has first year Hufflepuffs in there. I hear crying.

**7:20 PM**

**Dungeons**

It's quite damp down here. There's a distinct odor of… something indescribable- I can assure you, that particular something is not daisies on a warm spring afternoon, or freshly baked biscuits. Yes, clearly this location is far superior.

**7:31 PM**

**Dungeons**

The first years are finally leaving. I was right, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Did that one… wet itself? ::sniffs:: Yes. Yes, it did.

* * *

**A/N: **What happens in detention? Is Snape still a git? (Probably.) Why is Draco such a raging thunderdouche? Did that Hufflepuff REALLY wet himself? (Also probably.) FIND OUT IN THE NEXT AND PROBABLY FINAL CHAPTER (UNLESS I CAN BE PERSUADED OTHERWISE), IN WHICH I WILL TRY TO UPDATE MORE PROMPTLY RAWRR.


	6. The Processing Room Needs A Good Sweepin

**Disclaimer: **Is this really necessary? I mean, we are on , it should be quite clear that everything on here is fanfiction, therefor, not completely original things from the specific authors. Just... ugh. Silly.

**A/N:** Excuse me, is this _actually_ an update? Is this the longest chapter I've written in freaking _ages_? Are our characters actually _getting_ somewhere in the romance department? Have I had to change the rating to M in fear of being kicked off of this website? Is it chock full of fic-related cliches, that are not only addressed but blatantly _encouraged_? Was I sick and exhausted and high on cold medication while writing the end and editing? Did I have to read the entire chapter out loud to myself 6 times to edit it appropriately? Does my neighbor think I'm a nutcase? Despite all of this crazyness, is this my _favorite_ chapter so far? Did watching BBC America while I write this help a bit with some of my British slang?

Yes, I believe so but didn't really do a word or page count, check it out for yourself AKA oh _fuck_ yes, yes I'm a coward but I may be right in that it needs to be M rated, oh yes and they're fantastic, also yes I am twitching and blowing my nose simultaneously as I write this, it was silly I even used voices, I'm pretty sure he's been thinking that since I moved in 4 months ago, quite possibly seeing as I need it 6 times and I am still quite pleased, my British slang has gotten way better (still not perfect, though) not only because of BBC America but also because I watch a fuckton of British television online. I am using American slang in this A/N because I frankly miss it a bit.

Without further ado...

The Processing Room Needs A Good Sweeping

**9:19 PM**

**Sitting On The Floor Of The Same Classroom I Hid In Last Time I Left Detention (Let's Just Call It "The Processing Room.")**

I… well… can't… what…

**9:21 PM**

**The Processing Room**

I'm having trouble putting the last hour into words. Give me a moment, Diary.

**9:22 PM**

**The Processing Room**

I really should find a better location for my designated processing room. If it's official enough to have a capitalized title, the floor should not be this dusty.

**9:25 PM**

**The Processing Room, Which Needs A Good Sweeping**

I suppose I should start at the beginning. As opposed to mid-way. Or at the end. Really, starting at the beginning should just go without saying. I'm getting off-topic again. FOCUS, GINNY.

I walked into Snape's classroom, half-expecting him to be cackling maniacally, seeing as how it is clearly his dearest ambition to make everyone else in the castle as miserable as he is. Unfortunately, real life is not quite as, let's say "vivid," as my imagination, and he was simply organizing his students' work, that constant scowl as present as ever. Maybe mum's right- your face _could_ get stuck that way.

Professor Slimy Git didn't say a word to me as I entered the room. He simply gestured vaguely towards 50 cauldrons, which were stacked precariously in the corner of the room. I _swish and flicked_ my wand, lifting the cauldron at the very top, only to have the other 49 come tumbling down.

"Evidently, lack of grace is passed down in the Weasley clan as regularly as out-of-date robes," a familiar voice drawled from the doorway.

"Sod off, Malfoy," I snapped, spinning around and glaring at him with as much ferocity as I could muster after being caught off-guard.

"Nice face, Weasely," he replied, sneering, "I'm shaking in my dragon-hide boots."

Snape seemed to take that as his cue to exit, ignoring Malfoy's incessant mocking, and collecting our wands as he left. He locked them into an ornately carved onyx box, alerting us that it would unlock itself once our time ran out, then proceeded to leave the classroom, not even waiting for a response, his robes billowing out behind him. (**NTS: **How does he _do_ that? I wonder if he practices in front of a mirror, possibly pacing around his bedchambers, sneering and… swooshing? Is that an appropriate verb? Probably not. I do not care at the moment, as I am in a state of distress. We will get to that in a moment, Diary.)

Malfoy sat in one of the chairs, leaned back on two legs, and rested his feet on the desk in front of him.

"Are you going to help at _all_?" I snapped at him, giving my absolute _best_ scowl, as I had the time to practice and summon it up this time. It was impressive, if I do say so myself. Which I do.

He scoffed. _Scoffed_! Didn't even bother dignifying me with an actual response. Git. So, naturally, because I am incredibly, brilliantly mature (Shut it, Diary), I reached for my wand and, upon remembering it had just been collected 10 minutes prior, I ran up to him (IN A WAY THAT WAS MATURE AND NOT AT ALL STUPID LOOKING) and kicked his chair, making the thing fall out right from under him. He landed with an "oof!" and glared at me. I turned around to hide my silent laughter, but was not entirely successful in my efforts.

"You know," I said, turning back around, "You really shouldn't sit like that. You could… hurt yourself."

"Oh Weasley, I didn't know you _cared_," he replied sarcastically, with that ever-present smirk on his face, gracefully pushing himself up into a standing position. (How does he _do_ that? It's unfair. I would have been scrambling about on the slimy floor, attempting to rise up onto my slightly over-sized feet, and he manages to simply unfurl his limbs, effortlessly rising to his bloody _perfect_ height and bloody _perfectly_ proportioned feet. Not a single bit of slime smudged unflatteringly across his bloody _perfect_ bum. Tosser.)

I could feel my face turning pink (Why is it always doing that to me? Damn Weasley genetics. I'm afraid I will always be the girl with the embarrassingly pink, and sometimes-even worse, _red_, face.) "I do not!" My flawless maturity and ability to respond with a nearly acceptable scathing remark was clearly shining through yet again.

He grinned in a way that could be mistaken as genuine, if one hadn't actually met Draco bloody anatomically _perfect_ Malfoy. "Fine, I'll help. Merlin only knows you cannot accomplish anything on your own."

I was about to attempt to give another obviously witty and not at _all_ fumbling response, but thought better of it. If he was actually willing to lend a hand, I was not about to fight him on it.

We worked in silence for roughly ten more cauldrons each (I was on my 8th, technically, but I will take it to my grave that we were working at the same pace). He was so focused on his work he almost looked human. And attractive. Not like I cared or noticed, and I most certainly did not glance in his direction every so often to admire the way his eyebrows furrowed, or the way he bit his bottom lip, or how his eyes seemed to practically shine. They were really a very pretty colour. A blue that was so light it was almost ice-like. It reminded me a bit of the way the Lake looked mid-January, right after the hols. I'd never noticed before.

I don't care. Not in the slightest. He repulses me, I assure you.

Don't judge me, Diary.

"Like what you see, Weasley?" He drawled, smirking again. Damn him and that sexy- NO, NOT SEXY, BLOODY RIDICULOUS, HONESTLY-, obnoxious smirk.

"I'm just worried that you'll bite straight through your bloody lip, and _I'll_ have to clean it off the floor. So you can just… bugger off," Ace, Ginny. Truly. Another brilliant reply, and coupled by your bloody pink face, you're irresistible. He certainly has no idea that you were paying attention. That was in no way a confirmation. And now, if you continue talking to yourself, you can add "nutter" to the list of lovely qualities that make up your fantastic personality and life in general.

"Maybe later," He kept smirking, far too pleased with himself, and he winked- actually _winked_, right bloody fucking at me. But, not another word was said; we continued to work in silence for at least one more hour (I do not care about the redundancy I just wrote out. It is reaching the point in the story where everything changes, possibly going to shit. I do not care about the grammar in my very personal diary, and I doubt you do either, seeing as you do not read, because you are, in fact, a non-magical book.) I then kept my very inconspicuous, I assure you, glances to a minimum.

I had been a bit slower than him up to this point, but as my irritation and embarrassment increased with every passing moment, I was working faster and faster, taking all of my frustration out on the cauldrons. Poor things, never hurt a soul (maybe), and if I had more upper-body strength (my spells are brilliant, my actual brute strength? Not so much), I'm sure they would have turned to rubble. By the time we each had reached our 23rd cauldron, I had caught up completely (more redundancy?). We approached the significantly smaller pile at the same time, and each grabbed a cauldron. Rather, the same exact cauldron. Isn't that always the way, though?

Raised with my Gryffindor stubbornness and borderline unhealthy competitive streak, I refused to back down. I was not going to let that handle go, and, as he refused to lose a challenge to a Griffindor- a _female, Weasley_ Griffindor at that- neither was he.

We tugged back and forth for longer than I am proud of, but I know for a fact I won that particular battle. Not like it really mattered, as once I gave it one final pull towards myself, I fell backwards, dragging the blond on top of me in the process.

The world stopped. Well, I doubt it physical ceased rotating on its axis, but you understand what I mean. Well, you would, if you knew that sort of information. But you are inanimate, as I apparently need to keep reminding myself.

Right, so, we were centimeters apart. Our noses were lightly touching, and I could feel his breath on my face. His hair was tickling my forehead, his arms beside my head, pulling my hair a bit, our bodies pressed together. Thank Merlin for gravity. It occasionally does beautiful things. Hem… I mean, what? I was not even remotely aroused or love-struck by the entire situation, really. (Did I just honestly write love-struck? Excuse me while I vomit.)

Along with the metaphorical world and the ceasing of its natural function, it appeared that I had stopped breathing. Which seemed unfair, as he was breathing quite heavily. At that moment I realized something very important- no, Diary, not some realization of love that I had been overlooking my entire Hogwarts career, you thoughtless fool- I really, physically, was not breathing. I smacked the idiot's (very toned) (and unnaturally pale) arm to receive the attention of a conscious him, not… hem... "Little" Malfoy, who was poking into my thigh very thoroughly, without abandon or shame, and did not seem very little at all. I must admit, as much as I hate to say it, I was slightly… impressed, if you catch my meaning.

He stopped leaning towards my face whilst tilting his head slightly to the left (Was he going in for a kiss? What was that about? His eyes were definitely closing. Pale eyelashes fluttering and all sorts of things I shouldn't have been noticing. For the record, I definitely would _not_ be thrilled by the idea, I assure you. Really. I mean it), and his eyes popped open comically.

"Can't… breathe… gerroffame," I managed to squeak out.

"Right, right," he stuttered jumping off of me. He immediately noticed his… crisis, and turned a bit pink himself (He's _human_! Bloody _brilliant_!) . After realizing he'd shown such a display of a very _private_ situation, he nearly sprinted to the box where our wands had been locked up (quite impressive really, as I've seen how difficult such an action can be in his predicament.) The charm had been lifted a few minutes before- our time was up. After making his way to the door at a ridiculous pace, he turned to look at me again, mouth opening and closing like a grindylow out of water. He turned on his heel and left the doorway as quickly as possible.

I couldn't help but stare after him. I'm sure I was looking like a right idiot myself. Suddenly, something occurred to me. "We never finished our cauldrons!" I shouted after him. Realizing there was no way I could manage to finished in my current condition, I mumbled, "Bugger it," and made my way to the recently named Processing Room.

So, you are all up to date.

I think it may be time to speak with a real person about this. Confiding in you strictly might actually be assisting my insanity to really bloom. No offense, of course.

I need to find Blaire and Larissa- it is time for a trip to the kitchens.

**11:36**

**Kitchens, surrounded by food that I cannot bring myself to eat at the moment, and drinks I will abstain from on a Tuesday night. Honestly Blaire, this is just ridiculous.**

"Snog him stupid," Blaire said tactlessly, not even bothering looking up from her drink, which looked like pumpkin juice, but smelled suspiciously like something else.

I shot her a glare. "Yes, Blaire, thank you for that. I need actual advice now, please," I said, turning to Larissa.

"She raises a valid point, Gin." Larissa at least had the decency to look vaguely sympathetic, but that did not put an end my frustrations.

"You are supposed to be my _friends_!" I cried, "Just tell me what to _do_!"

Blaire finally looked up from the depths of her very illegal-on-school-grounds drink, raising a single, pierced eyebrow. "I thought we just did," she turned to Larissa, on her left, "We did, didn't we? I'm still nearly sober."

"Not very _good_ advice!" I was properly pouting now.

"Ginny," Larissa sighed, "Sit down, listen, and stop acting like a child."

Her voice was so gentle, exasperated, and _commanding_- I might as well have been home with my mum. But it did the job; my eyes wide, I sat down obediently. I _was_ acting like a child. Actually, an hour later, I'm still acting like a child- less insolent, but a child all the same. In retrospect, I will probably act like a child for the rest of my life. A child who swears far too frequently, anyway. Okay, Ginny, we understand. You're immature and it's unclear to us all why you have friends. Get back on topic and stop speaking in the third person like an arse.

Erm, so, yes. Larissa kneeled down and looked me right in they eyes. I leaned forward a bit in anticipation, ready to hear her words of wisdom… and then she smacked me. Right across the mouth.

I opened my mouth to shout at her, due to my sort-of justified outrage (not really, but I shall pretend), but she immediately cut me off. "Ginevra Molly Weasley!" (**NTS:** When did she learn my embarrassing, ridiculous, hate-my-mother-forever, name? Oh Merlin, that would have been the most humiliating thing of the evening, if these were normal circumstances. Which they clearly were not.) "You have been complaining about this boy-on-his-way-to-being-a-man-and-although-he-nearly-looks-the-part-he's-as-immature-and-obnoxious-as-you-are-and-although-we-love-you-anyway-we'll-need-some-convincing-in-order-to-tolerate-him" (All in one breath, that was. Very impressive.)

She continued on, "Since the very first day we ever spent actual time together, you've done a _truly_ fabulous job pretending to loath Mr. Draco Malfoy," I attempted to fight her on this assumption, as I am wont to do, but she raised her hand threateningly. I winced, and decided maybe it was best to let her finish. "And I am quite certain you've nearly convinced yourself of said loathing. Your level of denial is absurd and relatively unhealthy," I nodded slightly, tilting my head to the side. I questioned my mental health daily- being told I was a nutter (even though it was not an insult this time, just a light-hearted observation) was familiar territory. I was once again in my comfort zone. "Focus, Ginny. You're drifting again. Anyway, the fact of the matter is, you search him out, pretty conspicuously, every meal. You whine and moan like a petulant child after each and every detention, but you'll let something slip about how he looked, or something vaguely humorous he said, and your eyes will light up like a faerie on a Christmas Tree. And today, when you dragged us away from the dormitory (Not that we're complaining. I was hungry and Blaire was sober, neither of which suit us very well), you had your little mental break down. But, despite your little furrowing of the brow nonsense, attempting to display your confusion and frustration, you were smiling the whole bloody time. Face it, love- you fancy the bastard."

"…" My mouth opened and closed repeatedly for a full 40 seconds.

"Do you think she'll ever speak again?" Blaire mock-whispered to her potentially mad, but _far_ to observant, best friend.

"Give her a moment," Larissa replied, "She's processing."

"Must she take so bloody _long_?" Blair rolled her eyes, but grinned widely. I was not insulted by her attitude- we had become close enough that I understood this was her bizarre, Blair-way of showing affection.

"Shh… I think ginger princess may be on the verge of forming proper sentences…"

"I… fancy… a total _wanker_," I croaked out.

"Yes, yes you do," Larissa said, patting me on the back in a way that she meant to be consoling, but the action was not really a success. It felt like more of a mockery of the gentle action. She and Blaire's matching smirks did _not_ help matters, either.

"Well… bugger."

"Yes," the brunette said, nodding in agreement yet again.

"You may want to wait a bit for that," Blaire added, with a Harry-catching-the-Snitch grin, "While I would respect and be delighted by your debauchery, I never really pictured you as the slag of our little group of miscreants, and you know how I hate drastic change."

I smacked her on the arm, but it did not have the desired effect. She and Larissa just _laughed_, and began to dance around singing off key- something along the lines of "Ginny and Malfoy sitting in a tree! S-H-A-G-G-I-N-G!"

"That hardly even rhymes. And it completely lacks comedic timing… and surely would be far too dangerous," I added as an afterthought. Realizing they were not about to cease they ridiculous mucking about, I continued by shouting, "Stop that! What in Merlin's name do I do _now_?"

The two girls grinned at each other, and looked right at me, mischief in their eyes.

I was in trouble.


End file.
